The Miracle of Jello
by The Phantom
Summary: A late night snack turns into a philosophical search and a look at some of the little miracles that make life worthwhile. (Spotlight on: Scott, Rogue) [no romance]


Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within. 

Author's Notes: Ahhh, yes. Something different from my usual angst; a warm, cozy story with no romance and a bit of philosophical searching. A gem, no? Anyway, not my finest piece of work, but my first X-Men fic without a BH or Acolyte member as the main character. Shocking. 

Second in the Spotlight series, after 'Diaphanous Thinking'. 

The Miracle of Jello

Rain drizzled outside and created an endless display of silver fireworks as it laced past the floodlights that patrolled the yard diligently. The weather had been pleasantly dry lately, but even weather witches take the day off sometimes. A downpour was the result. 

Sometimes Rogue wished she could control the weather. Sure, a tap on Storm's forehead would accomplish that, but she was sick of being powerless unless she stole someone else's. No, she wished that she could have a power that was hers and hers alone. 

But if wishes were horses, blah, blah, blah. 

Blowing a strand of white hair out of her face irritably, she frowned at the weather out of her window. Kitty was sleeping soundly, but she herself could never find peace when it was raining. Just a little tic of hers, a quirk, whatever you chose to call it. Maybe it was all those stories she read about flash floods when she was little. 

Either way, she was stuck wide-awake at one in the morning, going on two, and not at all happy about it. She had school tomorrow, for pity's sake. Couldn't afford to loose sleep like this. 

Thoroughly pissed at the weather for being so uncooperative, she finally decided that some warm milk might do her good. It worked in the movies, anyway, and what would it hurt?

The mansion was always incredibly creepy at night. Her bare feet created a thousand creaks and groans as she dashed down the hall, and the rain made an ominous streaming pattern reflected onto the carpet. Fearful that she might run into Logan on one of his midnight prowls and get the scare of her life, she paused at every corner and waited to hear any heavy footsteps that might be approaching. She heard none. 

Peering into the kitchen, however, she couldn't stop herself from squeaking in surprise at the sight of someone sitting at the counter. Red sunglasses gleamed at her from the darkness, and a soft voice wondered, "Rogue?"

"Scott." She pressed a hand to her chest to stop her thundering heart before it exploded. "S'just you. Scared me half to death." 

"Sorry." He said, genuinely apologetic, "I thought I was the only one up."

"S'okay." 

Hopping up onto a stool, she settled herself at the counter across from him and watched him carefully. 

"Can't sleep?" she probed at last. 

"No," he confessed. "I haven't been able to sleep that well since…"

His words died guiltily and he stared at his interlaced fingers. The words didn't need to be spoken: since Apocalypse screwed everything up. Since they all had to haul ass and save the world. Since the world had gone on hating mutants all the same, like it had never happened. 

"Yeah…" she agreed, though she wasn't sure to what. 

"I never got to tell you, but I think you were really brave back there."

"Don't start." she said nervously. "I wasn't."

"But you were." He persisted. "If it wasn't for you, Apocalypse probably would have won."

"Who cares?" she muttered bitterly. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Rogue!" he admonished gently. "Don't say that."

An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the oblivious dance of the rain on their rooftop and on the lawn. It gave the quiet a rhythm, a pulse, a heartbeat. Rogue was strangely sad when it was broken.   
  


"Something's wrong." Scott observed. "Something's keeping you awake, and it's not Apocalypse."

"You're right, it's that big chemistry test tomorrow."

"Rogue."

"Fine." She huffed. "It's this whole Mystique thing."

Scott, for his part, was surprised. He'd assumed that she'd gotten over that, same as Kurt had. At least, the German hadn't shown any signs that it was bothering him anymore. Curious, he cocked his head.   
  


"Mystique? I thought you got past that."

"So did I." She admitted in a weak voice. "But I saw… when we were getting off the X-Jet, right when we got back from Egypt, I saw…"

Biting her lower lip, she attempted to retreat back into her shell. But Scott would have none of it, and would drag her kicking and screaming into the sunlight if that's what it took. 

"Tell me." He implored. "I want to help."

"I saw Magneto getting off his jet. And I saw Pietro with his father's arm over his shoulder, supporting him. He was there for him. And I just started thinking…"

"Rogue, you can't let their twisted family life get to you like this."

"No! That's not it!" she cried, suddenly furious. "Pietro forgave him! He was helping him! Even though Magneto hadn't done anything to win him back, he was there as a son. Meanwhile Mystique went out of her way to try and bring Kurt and me back to her, and I pushed her off a cliff! Then we both turned our backs on her in Egypt!"

"Pietro was just trying to—"

"I don't care what he was trying to do! Because whatever it was, he was doing the right thing. That little bastard! Does this mean Pietro Maximoff is a better person than I am? Because he could forgive and I couldn't? How can I pretend to be above him when it's really the other way around?"

"You're also forgetting that Pietro just about got a train full of people killed in his own quest for glory."

"You don't get it, Scott." Tears burned her eyes, and she felt suddenly ashamed of her outburst. "You just don't get it. He came through where it really mattered."

"Maybe you didn't look close enough, Rogue. Maybe he wasn't doing it for Magneto. Maybe he was doing it for Wanda."

"I don't care." She mumbled. "He did it. I didn't."

"Rogue," Scott said slowly, a smile dawning on his face. "I think you could use some Jello right now."

She glanced up, startled by this unexpected suggestion. 

"What?"

"Jello!" he said brightly, the smile blossoming into a childish grin. "I made some earlier today. I'll bet it's chilled enough to eat now. Strawberry Jello, the best kind."

"Scott, I don't think sugary gelatin is gonna make me feel any better."

"Hang on a sec."

Springing off his stool, Scott trotted to the cupboard and retrieved a pair of bowls. Then he dug up two spoons, and finally threw open the fridge and fetched his prize. He returned to his place bearing with him a glass bowl of quivering strawberry goodness. All this he dumped unceremoniously on the counter, scrambling back up on his seat. 

"I don't even like Jello," said Rogue hastily, even though she was lying. 

"Everyone loves Jello." He stated matter-of-factly. "It's a rule of nature."

He scraped half of it into the first bowl, and the rest into the second, jabbing a spoon into both and offering one to her. 

"I told you," she insisted. "I don't like it."

"Suit yourself."

The rain continued to sluice across the windowpanes, and she was distracted by it for a moment. Only for a moment, though, as her reverie was quickly broken by the sound of a noisy slurp and a loud "mmm".  Glancing back, she saw Scott with a blissful expression on his face. 

"You're like a little kid." She scolded. "No refrigerated dessert is that good."

"C'mon, Rogue, I don't see how you can't appreciate such a miracle as Jello."

"There's no such thing as miracles." She said softly, regretfully. 

He gasped, staring at her in disappointment and a hint of knowingness. 

"But… don't you think Jello is even the least bit miraculous?" He scooped up a spoonful and held it out to her. "Look at it! Is it a solid or a liquid?"

"A solid." 

"But how many solids do you know that can do… this?" 

Jerking the spoon erratically once or twice, he froze and watched with a satisfied expression as the Jello jiggled and danced long after his movement had stopped. 

"So it's a liquid." She said crossly. 

"But if it's liquid, how is it holding its' shape?"

"Scott, I didn't come down here to argue." She said tiredly. "If you're just gonna split hairs, I'm going back to bed."

"Rogue, I'm just trying to show you something."

"What?"

"Just listen. Here's another one: bubbles."

"What about them?"

"They're miracles! Think about it!"

"Scott, they're bubbles. They come from soap and carbonation. They are not miracles."

"Come on, haven't you ever chased a bubble and pretended that Glinda was going to come out of it?"

"No." she lied, because she had, a long time ago. 

"Okay, so there's two miracles. Jello and bubbles. Let's think of some more."

"There's no such thing as miracles!" she repeated, louder, more vehement than before. "How can there be miracles in such a crappy world?"

He dropped his head and poked his desert quietly, scooping up a little red morsel and popping it into his mouth, where it dissolved into oblivion with a burst of flavor. Finally, he spoke in a barely audible voice. 

"Because there are always miracles as long as you look for them."

"Maybe I'm not interested." She said wearily. 

"Everyone needs miracles, Rogue." He pointed out. "Otherwise life just becomes meaningless. There's always something incredible waiting to happen, or sometimes happening even as you look around you."

"I know." She said quietly. "I just stopped looking."

"But why?" he persisted. "Why would anyone give up looking for hope?"

"Maybe I ran out of hope."

"Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill." Scott quoted. 

"Pretty sentiment." Rogue said. "Where'd you hear it?"

"It's from a song called 'Believe'; 'There can be miracles/When you believe/Though hope is frail/It's hard to kill—"

"I get it, I get it, don't burst into song on me or anything."

"Okay. I won't preach."

The rain continued it's pattering and prancing, and he slurped down a few more bites of Jello, smacking his lips thoughtfully and searching for words. He tried out the first few that came to him.

"How can you not believe in miracles? You, who was saved from certain death by an angel."

"He's no angel, Scott, he's just a mutant like you and me."

"How can you not believe in miracles, after you've seen things like the stopping of Apocalypse at the last possible second?"

"That was a good battle strategy, not a miracle."

"How can you not believe in miracles," he said gently. "When you yourself are one?"

The tears returned with a vengeance, but she managed to hold them in her eyes and keep them from spilling all over the place. 

"How can you say that?" she whispered hoarsely. "I'm no miracle. I'm just a freak."

"Could a freak have saved us all from Apocalypse?" He shook his head with a patient smile. "No. Could a freak have saved Jean when her powers went crazy?" Again, the shaking and the smiling. Then his face became earnest. "Could a freak have saved my life when Mystique left us to die in the mountains?"

The last one struck a chord in her, and she allowed one tear to slip out, hoping it wouldn't open the whole reservoir. It didn't.   
  


"I was just doing the right thing…" she said lamely. 

Scott suddenly pounded both hands on the table with a shout of "Exactly!" that made her jump.

"Exactly!" he repeated, grinning. "You did the right thing! You may not always do the right thing, but you're done it in the past, and that sure as hell means you can do it in the future. And whether or not turning your back on Mystique was right or wrong, think on this: how many times in his miserable life has Pietro Maximoff done the right thing? Name me one."

Rogue honestly thought it over, wracking her brains.

"I can't." she admitted. "'Cept that he saved his sister's ass from their father down in Mexico."

"Same day he apparently forgave Magneto. That was the first day in his whole existence that Pietro made a good choice, and he ended up making quite a few. And you know what? I'll bet it scared him. Just as much as making the right choice for the first time scared you. And you know what else? You've made tons of good decisions after that. I don't know if Pietro's gonna stay on the right track, but I know you will, because you already have."

Triumphant, Scott dug out an extra large spoonful of Jello and gobbled it down, still grinning but now with a red smear on his chin, and a faint pink mustache from where he had been licking his lips. It was strangely comforting. 

The rain was slowing down outside, falling now in only a light drizzle. 

"Um…" Rogue pointed sheepishly at the untouched second bowl of Jello. "You gonna eat that?"

"No…"

"Can I, uh… may I?"

"I thought you'd say that."

He nudged the bowl towards her and she accepted it, scooping out a bit and tasting it carefully. Delicious. 

"Hey, Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

They sat in contented silence, each one eating their own little bowl of strawberry miracle. 

Outside, the rain had stopped falling. 

~ The End 


End file.
